A White So Red

by Krystle Jones

  Natalia noted the faint whiff of horse manure coming off her sister but didn’t remark on it. Rose would be mortified, and it might lead to the other girls teasing her. The poor child had enough to worry about as it was.

  Natalia chuckled. “It seems that way sometimes. The horses don’t mean to be so difficult.” She winked at her sister, whose face brightened with a small grin.

  The table grew darker with shadows as four girls walked up behind Rose. One was taller than the others, with long hair the color of chocolate and pale rosy skin. Her blue eyes narrowed on Natalia.

  “I heard the Queen beat you senseless this morning. Again.” Verika’s malicious smile widened. “Is it true?”

  “Yes,” Natalia said between bites, keeping her eyes on the bowl and trying to appear casual about it so as not to alarm Rose. No use in trying to deny what happened. They’ll find out sooner or later. They always do.

  Verika’s dainty mouth twisted into a sneer. “You deserved it, no doubt. You deserve a fate worse than death for what your father did to us, to this kingdom.”

  The weight of guilt spread to Natalia’s shoulders, like the earth was reaching up and pulling her down, followed by a burning sensation in her cheeks. Rose grew very still; her face was as red as her hair.

  “Half the town’s been murdered, tortured, or starved to death since that witch married into the royal family.” Verika was speaking of Thesper, the city outside the fortress. “How many of us have to die for your father’s folly, Your Majesty? What are you going to do about it?”

  “I already told you. I can’t do anything,” Natalia said, keeping her voice low and a few degrees below freezing. “The Queen stripped me of my title the moment my father died.” She circled the spoon around the bowl, gathering up the last of the muck. “And I asked the king not to marry her,” she added quietly.

  “Obviously you didn’t try hard enough to convince him. It was creepy the way he obeyed her, like a lovesick squire boy.”

  Natalia’s grip tightened around the spoon.

  “The king damned us all,” Verika went on. “He left it to us to clean up the mess and live out this hell on earth when he died.”

  Natalia licked her spoon clean and stood up right as the bell chimed, signaling the end of lunch. She bent down next to Rose. “Be strong,” she whispered. Rose was trembling, but she gave her a shaky nod.

  It killed Natalia to have to leave her, but she knew they would both be chained up and flogged if they disobeyed Maxime’s orders.

  With reluctance, Natalia made to move around Verika, but the girl’s hand slapped down on her right shoulder, preventing her from passing. Natalia turned her head and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out; Verika’s touch had sent a white-hot bolt of pain straight to her hand, thanks to her now highly sensitive tendons.

  If the other girl noticed, she didn’t comment. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a princess,” Verika said. “I would have been braver than you.”

  “Then why don’t you kill the Queen?”

  Verika’s eyes widened, and Natalia saw the same fear there she saw in every person at the castle. Verika’s bottom lip trembled, and she cleared her throat, flushing slightly. When she lifted her eyes, they were full of hate and rage. Verika spit on Natalia’s boots, her eyes burning with tears.

  “Damn the king,” Verika spat in a harsh whisper. “And damn you.”

  Verika stomped off, and the group of girls followed behind her. Natalia stood there, feeling heavy despite her petite frame.

  A warm hand touched her forearm. Rose was standing beside her, smiling up at her. “Don’t listen to them, Tali. They’re wrong about Father. He wasn’t a coward or a bad king.”

  Natalia smiled briefly at her sister and kissed her forehead, not having the heart to tell her she was the one mistaken.

  That she hadn’t known their father at all.

  ***

  When Maxime found Natalia in the hall much later that night for her final inspection, the woman had a wicked smile on her face that fell away bit by bit as she prowled the area and examined Natalia’s work. Natalia stood quietly to the side, watching but not seeing Maxime or even the immediate scenery.

  “Damn the king. And damn you.”

  She blinked, brushing away the remark like she had done many times before.

  Maxime looked disappointed. “Off to your quarters,” she said, stalking toward Natalia. “Before I whip you for missing curfew.” Her hand dangled above her whip, and her fingers twitched, itching to grab it.

  Gladly.

  Natalia nodded her head, dipped into a crooked curtsy, and gathered her things. Maxime moved quicker than she did, even for having such a bulky form. The woman pounded far ahead of Natalia at a pace she couldn’t match with the condition of her body. She ambled along a few feet back, the broom scraping the floor as she dragged it behind her, while the now empty bucket swayed on one arm.

  They reached the servants’ quarters, and Natalia deposited her things in the closet, hanging the bucket up on its token peg, along with the brush. After tucking the broom in the corner, she shut the door. The hall was empty, and the kitchen and dining areas were quiet, save for the hissing of the mounted torches licking the cool air. She felt marginally relieved. Hope built up in her chest; it was the lightest she had felt all day. Maybe she could get away for a while…

  Her body urged her to rest, but her desire to “escape” was greater. With excitement bubbling in her stomach, she shuffled down the hall and through the opposite corridor from where she had come. She peeked around a corner. The foyer opened up to her left, where a sprinkling of guards stood watch by the grand staircase. To her right, the hall led to the grand ballroom. It appeared empty. Straight across from her was another hall whose painted walls depicted sweeping hills covered in wild roses. Though the tall windows of the greenhouse were boarded up and covered in black curtains, she knew where the loose board was, the opening that would allow her to slip through into her personal illusion of freedom.

  Voices echoed from the foyer; a guard’s voice floated toward her, his words rushed with urgency.

  “It’s the storehouse along the eastern wall. The marauders are stealing our food again.”

  “Annoying insects.” The taller of the two guards waved his hand, making a forward motion, and the rest of the guards gathered around.

  Dropping to her hand and knees, Natalia awkwardly crawled across the floor into the painted hallway. She moved alongside the curtained wall, down to the spot that was noticeably chillier. Her fingers patted along the velvety softness of the curtain, feeling for its edge. When she found the flap, she lifted it, and a sliver of silver light spilled onto her face. The board moved easily, groaning softly as if it were annoyed at being disturbed but opening far enough for her to crawl through, which was infinitely more painful with a broken hand. Still, she somehow managed to slip through to the other side and stood up.

  Her breath puffed in the air, its crispness stinging her throat but wonderful at the same time because it was the taste of freedom. A roof made entirely of glass rose in a long arch over her head. Moonlight lit up the night sky, its deep blue canopy spackled with stars. The tall black wall that encircled the entire castle blocked her view of anything but that gorgeous night.

  The greenhouse was large in scope. The shells of dead roses lay in heaps alongside the many paths cutting through the garden. It was gray and lifeless but familiar nonetheless.

  By the entryway was a golden plaque inlaid in the seashell pathway.

  “For Irynis” it read.

  Irynis was her mother; the greenhouse had been her father’s wedding present to her.

  Natalia forgot about the pain in her body as she walked forward toward a little stone bench tucked away in a hidden grotto of overlapping rose trellises. At one time, the vines’ blooms and leaves had been so full that the bench was completely hidden from sight. But that had been long ago when the garden was alive, and her mother came here to escape fr
om the monotony of court life and be with her precious roses.

  Natalia plopped down on the bench and sighed, feeling calmer and warmer despite the goose bumps riddling her skin. The tension in her neck eased, though the knots in her shoulder blades remained. Those never left. Rose had tried rubbing them out once, but the experience left Natalia in so much pain, she decided to leave well enough alone and hoped they would leave someday of their own will.

  Relishing the peaceful atmosphere, Natalia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and stared up at the sky. It had been months since she was last able to slip away here. Idly, she traced the complex tattoo of black lines on her right wrist. The Queen had the binding curse inked into her skin the day after the king died as a way to ensure she would never be able to leave the fortress. Natalia had attempted it once, and the tattoo had lit up, burning so hot it nearly melted her skin off.

  On her left wrist, a long, thin scar ran from the palm of her hand to the crook of her elbow. Seeing the scar evoked the memory it carried; she could still feel the glass shard slicing through her skin, parting it like butter. That was the day Rose had let one of the horses escape, and the Queen had her beaten to the brink of death. Natalia thought Rose had died. In her sorrow, she decided she would rather spend an eternity with her family in heaven than live a lifetime without them on Earth. Her blood had flowed instantly in waves, running down her arm and dribbling onto the floor of her room. She sank against the wall, right below the looking glass she had punched minutes before, and closed her eyes and waited for death to take her. Her wrist began tingling. When she opened her eyes, her skin had melded back together until all that remained was a scar.

  That was when she discovered the true depth of her father’s powers. The protection spell he placed on her and her sister prevented the Queen from harming them – though others certainly could – and kept anyone or anything from killing them. She also suspected it kept her from feeling pain to some degree; otherwise, she had no idea how she was able to manage her chores in the condition the Queen left her body in. Sometimes, Natalia wondered if her father’s parting “gift” was more of a curse than anything.

  A lonely caw interrupted her thoughts, and she jumped as the largest raven she had ever seen lighted on the naked branch of a dead tulip tree. It sat, unmoving, with its head turned to the side, watching her with one eye.

  She stared back at it curiously. “Hello. How did you get in here?”

  The raven turned its head to the other side.

  “Are you trapped too?”

  The bird cawed.

  She gave it a small smile. “I feel slightly ridiculous talking to a bird. Is it sad when animals are all that will talk civilly with you?” That didn’t bother her so much as it did when she thought of Rose. She wished her sister could at least live a normal life, full of friendship and love. Her fingers gripped the bench, tears stinging her hot cheeks. “If Father knew what the Queen was truly like, then why didn’t he try to get us out? Why leave us here at her mercy?” She looked at the stars, wanting to scream but keeping the burning anger locked in her throat.

  “There has to be a way out,” she whispered. “And one of these days, Rose and I are going to leave and never come back.”

  The raven took flight, sailing right toward her and cawing frantically. She ducked as its talons scratched the top of her head. It caught an upward draft, flying over the graveyard of dead plants and up through a shattered window at the top of the greenhouse.

  She stared at the hole. It wasn’t there last time, though that had been months ago. A wild idea formed in her head. If she could somehow escape, she could find reinforcements and come back for Rose.

  Clambering to her feet, Natalia stumbled down the path and stopped under the opening. It was too far away. She looked around, spotting a trellis standing nearby. It might not be sturdy enough to support her weight, but if it would allow her to grasp the edge and climb halfway over…

  She threw herself at the trellis and began to climb. It shuddered, and the iron splints on either side of it jammed deeper into the frozen ground as it struggled to maintain her weight. The hole was close now, a few inches from the top of her head. The tattoo burned, glowing violet, and she knew in a moment her skin would start to singe, but the tease of freedom was too intoxicating to ignore. Reaching up, her fingertips brushed the edge of the glass –

  The sound of snapping wood was her only warning before the trellis disintegrated. Air whooshed past her before pain exploded along her back, knocking the breath from her. She lay there, unable to breathe for a few frantic seconds before taking a deep breath and sitting up with a wince. The trellis lay in shambles around her.

  She groaned, rubbing her backside. At least she hadn’t landed on her broken hand. The tattoo was once again black, looking perfect despite the rough patch of skin it lay upon.

  “Are you all right?”

  Natalia’s head snapped around so suddenly that a nerve in her neck pinched. Gritting her teeth, she clumsily groped for the knife with her left hand. I should really work on training my left hand to be as adept as my right.

  The moon lit up the greenhouse in shades of gray, but she saw no one. She cursed, feeling foolish. What if a guard had seen her or heard the ruckus when the trellis fell? She should leave, now.

  Scrambling to her feet, she started toward the opposite end from where she had entered.

  “Wait!” cried the same voice. It belonged to a girl. “Please don’t go!”

  Natalia pulled the knife free and held it in front of her as she whirled around. “Where are you?” she growled. “Show yourself.”

  The path was clear one second, but when she blinked, a girl suddenly stood there. Her skin was pearlescent white, and her wavy black hair hung past her hips. She had wide blue eyes the color of the sky and a pretty face with rosy cheeks and light pink lips. Her dress was simple, the sort of attire a milkmaid might wear.

  Natalia stared at her warily. “Who are you?”

  The girl’s face lit up with a friendly smile. “Someone who’s been watching you for a long time.”

  “Watching me?” Natalia asked, her eyes sharpening. She kept the knife pointed toward the girl, ready to strike her at the first sign of trouble.

  “I’ve been waiting for the day when I could finally speak to you.” The girl hurried up the path, grabbing for Natalia’s hands.

  Natalia took a step back, out of the girl’s reach.

  “Please, I mean you no harm,” the girl said.

  Part of Natalia wanted to believe her, but she learned long ago that gullibility had a steep price.

  The stranger didn’t let the knife deter her and reached for Natalia’s hands again. This time Natalia let her, though she tensed at her touch. The girl’s fingers were like ice, and when she reached for Natalia’s right hand, she quickly hid it behind her.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the girl said gently, reaching once again for her right hand. Natalia watched her warily as the stranger delicately grasped her wrist and pulled her hands together, clutching them in her own. The girl closed her eyes, her hair lifting on a hidden breeze Natalia did not feel. White light lit up the girl’s fingertips, spreading first into her hands and then Natalia’s in curling strands of light. Natalia gasped, trying to pull away, but she couldn’t move. It was only after the light died away that she realized her knuckles were no longer shattered, and the fingers of her right hand looked rosy and devoid of bruises. She flexed her hand; the muscles felt sure and strong.

  “You’re Charmed,” Natalia said, looking at the girl with wonder. A tendril of envy crawled up to her heart, but she suppressed it, as she always had. It had taken a long time for her to accept the fact she was a Barren, but every now and then, she still envied the Charmed. Mostly, it bothered her because her parents had both been Charmed. It made her feel less close to them somehow.

  The girl nodded. “My father passed it down to me. I could heal your back, if you like?”

  “How
did you know?”

  The girl smiled sadly. “Call it a heightened sense to suffering.”

  “What’s your name?” Natalia asked, biting her lip. She hadn’t meant for it to sound so sharp, and a wave of guilt rushed over her. The girl had been nothing but polite, going so far as to heal her, and yet she couldn’t fully trust her.

  Learned habits won’t die so easily.

  The girl’s blue eyes shone, honest and true, and she gently turned Natalia around. Natalia felt the girl tenderly place her hands on her back right before the ground lit up with white light.

  “I’m Via,” the girl said. “That’s what my mother calls me.”

  “How did you get in here? Are you a new servant?”

  “No, I’ve… been here for a long time.”

  The light died away and Natalia rolled her shoulders. Even the knots in her shoulder blades were gone. She turned back around, awed. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” The girl dropped into a quick curtsy. She reached up and cupped Natalia’s face in her hands. Natalia went still, her wary eyes locked on the girl’s face.

  “I can feel the protection spell,” Via murmured. Her hands dropped; one ran the length of Natalia’s right arm and came to rest at her wrist. Via lifted the tattooed skin to her face. “A binding curse.” She wrinkled her nose. “Nasty things. A pity curses can only be undone by the person who Marked you, or until they die. I’m sorry, but I cannot help you there.”

  Natalia gave her an awkward smile. “It’s all right. You’ve been a large help healing my wounds.” Her eyes sharpened. “You said you had been watching me for a long time, that you had been waiting for the day you could speak to me. What did you mean?”

  Via shrugged. “Exactly that.”

  “Why couldn’t you speak to me before?”

  “Because someone’s placed more than a protection spell on you. You have been Blind, Natalia. It’s kept you from seeing and sensing beings of magic, but the spell’s strength is at last waning.”

  Natalia paused while her brain chewed on that bit of information. She was about to ask, “What are you talking about?” but instead she said, “How do you know my name?”